


Misunderstandings & Realizations

by fishlock_holmes



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, High School Teachers, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-07 12:22:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7714729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishlock_holmes/pseuds/fishlock_holmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rinch high school teacher au</p><p>Harold isn't very good at self awareness OR picking up on obvious flirting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misunderstandings & Realizations

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a piece of art I saw on tumblr here => http://sylumspeed.tumblr.com/post/148500704580/i-really-want-the-story-that-goes-with-this

Harold Finch had been the computer science teacher at South Brooklyn High School for six years now. Which is 5 years and roughly eleven months longer than he originally intended when he was first called in to substitute teach for a few weeks. But once there, Harold had quickly realized that the regular teacher turned to out be completely inept at his job.

None of the students he worked with were doing well and he could see why once he'd gotten a look at the lesson plan. He'd brought the problem to the principal, a terrifying woman named Samantha Groves who had insisted on simply being called Root (though he still addressed her as Miss Groves, much to her bemused irritation). She'd promptly fired the man and offered Harold the full time position.

He'd accepted after only a slight hesitation due to the fact that his ex was also working there as the art teacher. But after a quick conversation about whether or not either of them would find it difficult to work together, they'd decided that, not only could they do it, they'd also missed each other and had decided to try to be friends in addition to colleagues.

That decision turned out to be one of the best of his life. He loved his job, working to educate young minds in a subject he held dear. He had made good friends out of his coworkers. In addition to reconnecting with Grace, he'd quickly bonded with Carl Elias, the history teacher, over a similar dry humor and appreciation of classic literature. He'd also found that he got along well with Miss Groves through her own determined persistence to make a friend out of her new employee, citing a similar love of programming, coding, and technology. And through her, he'd found himself calling her partner and the school's frighteningly ruthless part-time wrestling coach, Sameen Shaw, a friend as well.

In all honesty he'd never been so popular in his life as he was now. His students seemed to like him more than he could remember ever having liked his own teachers in high school and he regularly spent time with people he cared about and respected. He was content, happy even, with his life.

That is, until the latest staff hire.

John Reese was absolutely infuriating. The new physical education instructor/track and field coach walked the school's halls with such command and competence that Harold couldn't help drawing parallels to the more athletic and popular boys from his own high school experience. Except for the fact that, where those boys flaunted their physical prowess and social dominance, Reese seemed unaware of just how admired he was, by students and colleagues, and it frustrated Harold to no end. He could never tell if the man's humble demeanor was genuine or not and that, added to the childish teasing directed Harold, made for an unpleasant start to their acquaintance. Not that Harold would ever be rude enough to outwardly show his discomfort with their interactions, especially when he knew he had no real reason for it. The teasing was light and he could tell it was intended to be friendly and work as a sort of icebreaker between them. Which was another thing, Reese seemed intent on becoming his friend, but there was just something about Reese that put him on edge and dragged him out of his carefully constructed comfort zone. He couldn’t understand what it was though until it was bluntly pointed out to him by a third party.

“You know you’re attracted to him, don’t you?” Grace helpfully pointed out during lunch one day in the teachers lounge.

“I’m sorry, what? Who?” He replied, looking around the room for whoever she was be talking about.

“Mr. Reese.” She said teasingly with a smirk.

Harold responded with a skeptical eyebrow raise, barely keeping from rolling his eyes at her wild imagination. "And what could have possibly led you to that conclusion?" He said partitioning out the reheated mushroom risotto he'd prepared the night before between them. 

"Oh please." she scoffed, doing the same with her Chicken Marsala. It had become somewhat of a routine for each of them to prepare half of each other's lunch on Fridays.

"It's painfully obvious to us all." Drawled Elias, from his seat across the room without looking up from his book.

"What is?" Asked Shaw in her signature monotone as she walked through the door.

"Harold's little crush on the soldier." He replied, before tuning out the rest of the conversation.

"Definitely." Shaw said, grabbing her lunch from the fridge and popping it in the microwave. "Was it supposed to be a secret?"

"Only to himself," said Grace. "And he seems to have done a wonderful job of it."

"I would thank you both not to encourage her." Harold sighed, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the headache he could feel looming.

"Whatever." Shaw said and left with her lunch, most likely to join her lover in her office for the remainder of her afternoon before practice started. Elias remained silent, though Harold could see his amused smile before his book blocked his face from view.

"See, Harold? They see it too." Grace said, popping a mushroom into her mouth.

"I don't see how that's possible, seeing as it's an inaccurate observation." He replied. Cutting into his chicken with flimsy plastic utensils.

"So you're denying it?"

"Yes, because it's a ridiculous accusation."

"Accusation? Harold, it's not an accusation," She giggled. "it's a fact. You get so uncomfortable around him. Blushing and fidgeting. He makes you squirm like nothing I've ever seen."

"Has it occurred to you that my discomfort stems from dislike?"

"No, because I know you. When you dislike someone, you're coolly dismissive, as if their existence is offensive to you. You don't let people you dislike get to you the way he gets to you."

Harold remained silent as he finished his meal, thinking about what Grace had said. She was right about one thing: she did know him. Very well in fact. They'd been together for years before they'd parted ways. She probably knew him better than anyone, so he supposed that her idea did merit some consideration.

Thinking on it now, it was wasn’t a completely ludicrous idea. Reese was a handsome man by all accounts. Tall with tanned skin and peircing blue eyes, black hair just starting to show flecks of grey at the temples, a slim, muscular build.

Alright so Harold could admit (if only to himself) that Grace was right, but that still didn't explain his discomfort. He'd never been particularly nervous or anxious around people he'd been attracted to before. From the moment he saw Grace, how beautiful she was and what she could do with her talents, he'd known he wanted her. And he'd been fairly confident about going after her. Other than the usual worry that one's feelings may not be mutual, he'd never felt any reason to be so tense as he was with John Reese.

He said as much to Grace, glossing quickly over the fact that she was correct.

"It's because he's the one pursuing you this time and it's freaking you out." She informed him.

"Pursuing me? What ever do you mean?" Harold sputtered.

"He flirts with you constantly, which you obviously haven't consciously realized. Subconsciously however, you know exactly what he's doing and all that peacocking he's doing for you is shortcircuiting your brain. Hell, it's shortcicuiting mine if I'm ever in the same room as you two."

"Peacocking?" Harold asked, incredulously.

"He never wears sleeves around you," she started, checking off her fingers as she went. "Presumably so that he can show off his, frankly impressive, arms."

"He works mostly outside. It's getting warm." He dismissed.

"He finds any excuse he can to talk to you." She continued, unperturbed. "Remember when he just started talking about your hair out of nowhere. It was so awkward it was hard for me to witness. He must have been so nervous the poor thing."

Harold remembered. Reese walked into the lounge and had immediately started in about how messy it was and how it looked like he'd just rolled out of bed. At the time, he'd been highly embarrassed by what he'd seen as an attack on his level of professionalism and personal grooming habits. Now, if his friend was to be believed, he felt some regret for his reaction; a cold stare and a silent exit from the room.

Grace was still talking as he ran this through his mind. "He bought a huge tin of your favorite tea for the lounge after you only mentioning it to him once."

Another instance in which he'd believed Reese to be teasing him. Reese had offered to get him a coffee from a nearby shop since he was going for himself. He'd informed the coach that he didn't drink coffee and that his preferred sencha green, was not sold at said coffee shop. Reese had said something off hand about Harold having high brow tastes in more than just his wardrobe that had him bristling and leaving the room as soon as possible. It would appear that his first reaction to insult was usually retreat.

The next day, he'd noted the new tin next to the coffee maker and deemed it a joke. Apparently not.

"And on top of all that, he tries to get close to you as much as possible." She concluded, smiling and managing to look both smug and adoring, as if Reese's attempts at crowding and touching Harold was the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

Yet again, Harold had seen these as slights to his person. Invading his personal space to retrieve something Harold couldn't quite reach had obviously been to bring attention to his hight. Harold was forced to wonder what kind of persecution complex he'd developed to make him perceive these romantic advances as attacks. Perhaps it all boiled down to what he'd already observed. That John Reese made him relive his high school days of unrequited crushes and bullying jocks. 

But that was profoundly unfair towards Reese. They weren't sixteen years old, John wasn't captain of the football team, and Harold wasn't the computer geek being constantly harassed by the former. They were both mature adults who were each apparently quite taken with the other, only Harold's childish mindset standing between them.

Grace had left for her next class already by the time Harold had gotten his head around this new development, which left him alone save Elias, still sitting in the corner with his book.

"She's right, you know." He spoke up. "He really is quite smitten with you."

"Hmm yes, I'm beginning to realize that myself. Though I fear my constant rebukes have damaged any chance I may have had at accepting his advances." Harold lamented.

"I wouldn't be so sure, my friend." Carl smiled, cleaning his glasses after setting down his book. "I don't think anything short of your flat out refusal would deter that man. I suspect that any attempts by you to engage his attention would only be welcomed."

"Be that as it may, it'll have to wait. I have another class in a few minutes." Harold sighed, gathering his Tupperware and heading towards the door.

"Just talk to him." Carl advised. "And try not to glare at him this time. I'm not sure whether it cows or encourages him, but I don't believe either is a good idea."

Harold huffed and could hear Carl chuckle as he made his way down the hall towards his classroom.

As the day progressed, Harold tried not to let his mind wander, but now that he'd decided to try and give John a chance it was hard to focus on anything else. His thoughts kept coming back to the possibility of John's body, John's voice, John's smile, John, being just within reach all this time, and how stupid he'd been not to notice. And how lucky he would be if he really could still salvage it all.

By the time Harold was able to leave the school, he'd been stewing on these thoughts for hours. He was still distracted as he walked towards the faculty parking lot when a sharp whistle broke his concentration enough to notice the track team practice taking place on the field to his right and, by extension, their coach.

Steeling his nerves, Harold made his way inside the fenced off field and towards the subject of his intense contemplation. He approached Reese with some trepidation, holding a book and a pop quiz folder to his chest like a shield. He eventually ended up leaning against the fence right beside Reese under the guise of watching the practice.

"Mr. Finch." He said, nodding towards his colleague. His voice was low and rough as per usual, but Harold found himself becoming uncharacteristically flustered all the same.

"Mr. Reese". He replied, turning to look at the other man. Reese was actually wearing short sleeves today, probably because of the cold snap that was just tapering off, and holding a clipboard in his hand. What caught Harold's attention however, were the glasses sitting on Reese's face. He'd never seen the older man wearing them before and they made him look ridiculously endearing. Soft in a way he hadn't realized Reese was capable of until now, and that was the final straw.

"Would you like to have dinner with me?" Harold said, a bit quickly compared to his normal speech, capturing Reese's full attention.

Reese simply stared at him for a few nerve-wracking moments before cracking a small hopeful smile that Harold thought a beautiful thing to behold. 

"I'd love to."


End file.
